Daily story, February 14, 2025

When I was nine years old I buried myself in the good dark soil in the garden, up to my shins. I thought it would make me grow tall, like a tree. My parents indulged me. They brought me squash and sandwiches until it was time to go to bed. I wanted to stay there all through the week’s holiday, and go back to school the tallest boy in class. They said I had to pull myself up or they would do it for me. But they couldn’t. I hadn’t grown a hair taller. But I had grown roots.